it was well for her chance of quiet that hattie butler took her place in the office, where none could invade without permission, when she returned to the bindery, for every one wanted to see and, if but for a moment, to speak to the heroine whom the papers had made famous.

even a reporter, and they are everywhere, heard she was there, and got as far as the office door to interview her. but mr. jones bravely stood there, paste-brush in hand, and saved her from the cruel infliction.

and thus she lived on, day after day, until almost three weeks had passed, and then there came to her a telegram from the west.

oh, what a joyous look came over her face when she read it!

jones said, when he told the little wife at home about it, that miss hattie looked just as she, the little wife, had looked when she stood up in church and promised to be his until death should them part.

“is it from the boss?” he asked.

“yes, yes, and such glorious news!” she cried.

“then he has got the bindery started?” asked jones.

“he says not one word about the bindery,” said miss butler, abruptly.

and jones was left to wonder what on earth the news could be that was so glorious, and yet not a word about the branch.

[206]

he was completely nonplused, as a lawyer friend of mine said one day when he wanted me to think he knew latin.

for a few days more everything at the bindery went on as usual, and then there came another telegram.

miss hattie looked exceedingly joyous over this, and now told mr. jones that the branch bindery was going nicely, and that mr. w—— was coming home, and would be there in just seven days if no accident occurred on the way.

and then she told him that she should close up all her work and leave the bindery on the next day. she would arrange his books and pay-rolls as she had been doing all the time, up to the end of the week, and then it would be easy for him to run matters until mr. w—— was in the shop again.

here was another poser for poor mr. jones. why should hattie butler post off to boston, as she said she was going there, when mr. w—— was expected home?

“i thought she set a heap o’ store by him and he by her,” said jones, talking it over to his wife. “and now when he is coming back, she puts right out as if she didn’t want to see him at all.”

“it’s a sure sign she loves him—she is bashful like, as i was once,” said mrs. jones. “you’ll see. he’ll follow her to boston, there’ll be a short bit o’ courtin’, and then a grand weddin’, and mr. w—— will come back with his bride on his arm as proud as you was when you kissed me before the parson could get a chance.”

and that was all the good woman knew about it.

there was tribulation that night at the supper-table at miss scrimp’s. hattie butler, in a tone of[207] deep feeling, told all the girl boarders she was about to leave them forever. she called each one to her and kissed her, after supper, and gave her a gold ring, with the name of “hattie” on it, as a remembrance, and she told them, while she thanked them for their ever kind feeling to her, she would not forget them in the distant home to which she was going. if any of them ever was sick, or in distress, if they would send a note to hattie butler, care of mr. w——, at the bindery, it would reach her, and she would relieve them, for god had been good to her; she was rich now, and willing to serve him by sharing her riches with those who were in want or suffering.

the girls kissed her, and wept over her. it seemed as if they could not let her go.

for, in those long years, she had won the love of every one who knew her, miss scrimp alone excepted.

that “old barnacle” (i got that idea from roger starbuck) couldn’t love anything but money and—her wretched old self.

miss scrimp got no gold ring, but she got her bill in full, and a week over, as hattie had run one day into another week, or rather would begin by taking breakfast in the morning.

after this scene was over, hattie went up to her room, got out her well-worn writing-desk, and wrote several notes, which we can judge of when one is taken as a specimen.

that one was addressed to miss lizzie legare. it ran thus:

“dear and kind friend:—you know there has been ever something mysterious about me—not wrong, yet a something which i could not fully explain.[208] in another note i have invited your father, brother, aunt, and little jessie, all to visit me at my home, no. — beacon street, boston, on the seventh day from to-day, at four in the afternoon, to remain there as a guest that night and as long as you will. darling, i have written at length to you—to the others, extended only an invitation. mr. edward w——, his sisters and parents, will also be there, and a gentleman whom you have never seen. come, darling, come.

“lovingly,

“georgiana e. lonsdale, nee ‘hattie butler.’”

hattie—or, shall we call her georgiana after this—was on her way to boston when those notes went out to their several destinations, carrying wonder and surprise to each recipient. even captain smith got one, in which he was told to bring his whole family, and mr. jones was not forgotten, nor the little woman and baby.

in the legare house there was wonder and joy in all but one heart.

“i wonder who the gentleman is whom we have never seen?” moaned frank. “it’ll be just my luck—there’ll be a wedding; she’ll be the bride, and i’ll be a shadow, standing back like cold beef alongside of hot turkey.”

and there was yet more wonder with edward w——’s sisters. but they vowed they’d go even if she had been a bindery girl.